


Tuning In On You

by Deanon



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:04:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deanon/pseuds/Deanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos had noticed Cecil's voice before, of course, but he'd never <i>noticed</i> Cecil's voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tuning In On You

Carlos, despite what most people believed, was not a habitual listener of Night Vale Community radio. Or, at least, not any more so than the rest of the town was; he had it on in the background of his lab, most of the time, when he was working late with experiments that didn’t require much concentration.

Most of the time, though, Cecil’s voice was too… distracting, and the bizarre events that took place throughout Night Vale were even more so. It was good to be informed, Carlos figured, but better to be focused; Cecil could bring up a dozen scientific anomalies in the first five minutes of the show, and Carlos knew himself well enough to know that he would fall down every rabbit hole Night Vale offered him if given the chance.

(The irony in the fact that he had, perhaps, already fallen down a few very significant rabbit holes wasn’t lost on him. But then, in Night Vale, irony was the least of his concerns.)

Earlier that day, though, Carlos had called Cecil with an Important Announcement, which meant something that could potentially kill everyone in town (but then, so could most everything else in town, from the dogs – even the ones that weren’t rabid or from the Dog Park – to most tea kettles.) In this case, radiation was up. _Way_ up. As in, the readings on the Geiger counter were similar to those he might see in the middle of a nuclear reactor.

Carlos wasn’t sure what this should _mean_ for the citizens of Night Vale, since nobody had clearly been dropping dead of radiation poisoning in the streets. But, at the least, they should be informed, and luckily, he knew of a reasonably reliable way to contact the populace.

Reasonably reliable because Cecil only, on a good day, remembered to mention about half of what Carlos told him was Incredibly Important Seriously Cecil Please Remember This.  Which was why Carlos was sitting down on his couch with the radio he’d bought during his first week in Night Vale, properly listening to Night Vale community radio for the first time in weeks. (This was totally unrelated to the fact that he’d gone on a date with Cecil the week before, and had intentionally not turned the radio on at all for a few nights after. He was achingly curious, but it also seemed rather invasive to listen to Cecil’s post-date thoughts on public broadcast, and Carlos wanted _some_ part of this relationship to be normal.)

As Cecil’s voice came on, though, Carlos wasn’t expecting the shiver of anticipation. He’d forgotten the way that Cecil’s radio voice – so different from how he spoke in day-to-day life – shivered down his neck and settled at the base of his spine, warm and heavy.

_“A friendly reminder, my fellow citizens of Night Vale: the perception of reality is all just firing synapses in your brain and chemicals being released and interpreted by your body. If you are ever frightened or confused, just remember – hooded figures, disembodied screams of horror, and that intense burning sensation that sears across your skin whenever you cross the threshold of the library – it really is all in your head.  
Welcome to Night Vale.”_

Carlos hadn’t listened to Cecil every night since the first few weeks he’d lived in Night Vale. Until the bumper music started playing, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it, but now he could feel it, like a warm presence in his chest. Cecil was a comforting constant in a town that had very few comforting constants (very few constants in general, really, and almost none of them comforting.)

As Cecil started reading off the news, though – old lady Josie had announced the movement of a new angel into town, and City Council had followed up with their 243rd announcement that angels _do not exist_ , and if they did then this new one was definitely the riff-raff sort anyways, certainly not the kind they wanted in their fine town – Carlos noticed something else. Something about Cecil’s voice.

It was warm as melted butter, Carlos had always known that. But now he’d _kissed_ Cecil, knew the faint taste of the mouth that was behind that voice, and for some reason that changed _everything_.

Or, well, not everything. Carlos wasn’t prone to (much) melodrama. But it did change some things; for example, he’d never gotten half-hard just listening to Cecil talk about the community calendar before. He’d never found it difficult to concentrate on what Cecil was saying for the sound of Cecil’s _voice_ , the particular way his voice dropped on the more serious news and went light and breathy when he was talking about the kitten that had wandered into the studio earlier.

Cecil’s voice had featured in a fantasy or two or Carlos’s before; just an echo of his voice in Carlos’s ear, murmuring filthy things, sighing and gasping with–

That – wasn’t a fantasy.

Those were sounds that Cecil was actually making; a tiny, hitching sigh, let out on a soft moan, broadcast over the slightly grainy Wal-mart radio in Carlos’s living room.

Carlos let out an answering moan without entirely realizing what he was doing. He was hard, suddenly, startlingly. Cecil made another little moan, higher this time, as though someone had hit just the right sweet spot on his skin. It wasn’t clear whether Carlos should be concerned, or jealous, or aroused, but he was some combination of all three.

Arousal was winning, though, because whatever was happening in the studio – and Cecil was enough of a professional that it _couldn’t_ be what it sounded like, although Carlos couldn’t imagine what else it could be – he certainly seemed to be enjoying it. And, as Carlos traced a hand down his chest, he figured he finally got to find out what Cecil would sound like in bed – just in a different way than he expected.

Nothing in Night Vale ever really happened like he expected.

Carlos tugged the zipper to his jeans down and hissed, and Cecil made an answering moan (well, not answering, although Carlos had to wonder). It was very easy to ignore how _weird_ this was when Cecil was making those noises.

On the radio. Everyone could hear him. Everyone _did_ hear him.

Carlos’s cock gave an unexpected jolt at that, as his breath came more uneven.

Well then.

Cecil’s voice escalated quickly into rapid, voiced pants, and Carlos didn’t bother trying to take it slow. He was more frustrated than he’d realized, after kissing Cecil and then listening to him talk in that warm, low baritone, and his hand moved in rhythm to Cecil’s gasps as he thought, _This is what he would sound like when getting fucked_ –

Cecil ended on a surprisingly subdued, almost embarrassed cry that Carlos _felt_ , straight through him,  an electric jolt straight down his spine. It wasn’t enough, though, not yet, the images and _sounds_ , damn, of Cecil in his bed, Cecil with his average eyes screwed shut and his not-average-at-all voice moaning Carlos’s name –

 _“That was a PSA from our City Council, and backed by Trojan condoms. Please, everybody, use protection_.”

 _It was a commercial_ , Carlos realized, and he felt a jolt of amusement-arousal-relief as sparks went off in his brain, brighter than the lights above Arby’s –

He came on a stuttered laugh of Cecil’s name. 

* * *

 

He came down in the afterglow faintly embarrassed, and also aware that he had no idea if Cecil had actually mentioned the unusually high toxic radiation yet. Although, if he had, he also probably would have mentioned –

“ _Oh yes, dear listeners, I also have a message for you from_ Carlos.” Ah, yes, there. The little sigh on Carlos’s name. Even in a post-orgasm haze Carlos was equal parts embarrassed and pleased, his stomach doing a little twist every time Cecil gushed about him like this.

“ _He seemed to think it was really important this time. Something about toxic radiation being unusually high and how we should all be dead. Now, you all know how I feel about Carlos_ – “ _and how_ , Carlos thought, with more affection than annoyance – “ _but if we got worried about every little thing in Night Vale that should be killing us, we’d be more insane than that old cat that wandered into the library one night. Still, Carlos seemed to think this was very important, and he asked so_ nicely – “ A pleasant shiver ran down Carlos’s spine at that, and he wondered if anyone else listening heard the innuendo there, even if he had done nothing more than leave Cecil a slightly frantic message on his phone. “ _So please, if you notice any unusual glowing, large amounts of inexplicable bleeding unrelated to cult rituals, or portions of your skin spontaneously catching on fire, report to the decontamination chamber in the mineshaft at the edge of town.”_

Carlos tilted his head back and laughed, and wondered when he had reached a point in his life that he could laugh at toxic radiation poisoning and government-sanctioned “decontamination.” The fact that he wasn’t sure was pretty worrisome.

_“And now, the weather.”_

As soon as the music faded in, his phone rang. Carlos tucked himself in and wiped his hand on his shirt self-consciously before entirely taking it off because it was a _phone_ and Cecil (probably) couldn’t see him.

“Hi,” Cecil said breathlessly as soon as Carlos picked up. His radio persona, in place just a few seconds before, was thoroughly gone. “I got everything, right? I mean, you know I think you’re being silly but it’s just one of your charming things and anything I can do for you – “

“It was fine,” Carlos said, and realized his voice was still sex-deep and cleared his throat self-consciously. “Fine. Great. I think that about covers it, although I wish you had told people to report to the hospital, not the decontamination chamber.”

“What would the hospital be able to do?” Cecil asked, which, fair point. “Anyways I was just, um, wondering, I mean I know you took off from the lab early – “ and Carlos didn’t wonder _how_ Cecil knew that any more than he wondered how Cecil knew anything – “if you wanted to maybe get dinner after I’m done here? Applebee’s is doing that bloodstone drink special with half-price appetizers – “

“Dinner sounds great,” Carlos said quickly. “It. Awesome. Yeah.” He paused, and felt a little ashamed of himself past all the stupid butterflies that had somehow moved into his stomach every time Cecil did things like this. “I’ll see you then.”

“Great!” Cecil squeaked.

The weather song seemed to be winding down, but Cecil coughed and Carlos said, “Yes?”

“Did you like the public service announcement today?” Cecil asked, and hung up.

Carlos gaped at his phone and then started laughing and didn’t stop. He was so far down the rabbit hole, now. He didn’t even want to come back out.

He got up and went to shower, because he had a boyfriend to meet for drinks, to stare at across the table and try not to think about whether that was actually the sound he would make as he came, if Carlos was going to get the chance to find out.

It was going to be a good evening.


End file.
